


Defeated

by puffinperfection



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Implied Relationships, Suicide, im horrible, im sorry, imagine your otp prompt, maybe? - Freeform, my writing has a trend, rated teen for suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 00:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1530737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puffinperfection/pseuds/puffinperfection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Except they're not pointing to the clouds (which do, ironically, appear extra white and puffy today), they're pointing to the edge of the warehouse building they've gathered around, where a tall, lanky figure stands, shaking noticeably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defeated

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of this Imagine Your OTP prompt: http://imagineyourotp.tumblr.com/post/65322358972/tw-suicide-death

"And so Rufioh said - what's going on up there?"

You giggle a bit, eyes glued on your cell phone as Horuss carries on about his most recent date with that Rufioh Nitram boy. A "what's going on up there?" most certainly didn't fit in with the rest of the story, unless there was an interesting plot twist you were about to be caught off guard with. Horuss had definitely once said his dates with Rufioh were most interesting. Pushing a few locks of curly brown hair behind your ear, you look up at him expectantly. He has since trailed off, and was now staring ahead with an unreadable expression. What a peculiar place to space out. Softly, you elbow him in the ribs. "And then what?"

"No, Meulin, up there!" He points up ahead and you follow his long finger's target. A small crowd has formed around the sidewalk, and citizens are pointing up at the sky and gawking. Someone yells about not doing something.

Curiosity killing both your and Horuss' cats, you both hurry to the edge of the crowd and follow the fingers pointing to the clouds. Except they're not pointing to the clouds (which do, ironically, appear extra white and puffy today), they're pointing to the edge of the warehouse building they've gathered around, where a tall, lanky figure stands, shaking noticeably. Your body tightens, and you're pretty sure you've gone a ghostly white.

You'd recognize that skeleton hoodie anywhere. You'd recognize the appearance, the feel of the fabric, and the scent at any given time, and paired with the vivid indigo high top shoes halfway of the edge it's unmistakeable who the wearer is. Kurloz Makara stands on the roof of the old warehouse with arms pinned to his side, clenched fists, and a shivering figure. A foot lingers over the edge, contemplating whether or not it wants to lead its bearer in their final leap.

Your pulse quickens, and you've stepped out of your flats and pushed through the crowd before you're even aware of yourself, yelling "Kurloz, no!" as you hurl yourself at the heavy glass door. A chant of 'stop' plays through your head as you start up the first flight of stairs. So much adrenaline pumps through your veins that you don't notice how out of breath you are, and at this point you're quite sure the pain in your chest is more a rapid heartbeat than anything else.

A sign tells you that there's one more flight of steps until you reach the roof, so you start to ungracefully run two steps at a time. The less time it takes, the better. You just need to meet him. Talk him out of whatever this is. You shove open the last heavy exit with a breathless heave. "Kurloz, no!" you screech, green eyes wide and palms sweaty. His head snaps back and his deep blue eyes lock with yours milliseconds before a weightless step hurls him off the stone structure.

The crowd below gasps, and you shakily fall to your knees, tears streaking your cheeks.

**Author's Note:**

> Everything I write has a similar trend and oh my god I'm sorry, but I'm proud of this. 
> 
> I was listening to All Time Low's "Remembering Sunday" when I wrote this ayyyy.


End file.
